


They Once Were

by 1d_larryshipper



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Interpretive ending, M/M, Sad, Tattoos, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 13:00:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1d_larryshipper/pseuds/1d_larryshipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Harry and Louis are older and maybe not quite as in love as they once thought."</p><p>Or the one where Louis loves Harry, but Harry just isn't ready.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Once Were

**Author's Note:**

> So, this story was inspired by this picture: http://25.media.tumblr.com/65c591842dd232779aca6a5629a7bcf2/tumblr_mlwyhateuW1rccr68o1_250.jpg
> 
>  
> 
> It's really sad, and it has the type of ending where you can interpret what happens next depending on what you want. I hate those endings so IDK why I wrote it, LOL. The timeline for stuff may (or may not) be a little weird and off? I don't know exactly when or how they met Cal. And then the Larry bullshit tweet/Harry and the greenbay packers picture and tattoo are all a little hazy to me. I think it happened August-November time but WHO KNOWS. It's fiction soo *sticks out tongue* (that's what I'm going to go with to make myself feel better, lol). 
> 
>  
> 
> ENJOY :D XOXO
> 
>  
> 
> Oh...er...if you read Eye of the Hurricane...I'm working on that chapter, it's just been really slow. I literally am STUCK. I had the whole beginning and ending thought out and now I'm like, oh yeah there has to be a middle to the story too...so. That'll be up. Soon. Ish. :)!? *offers out cookies*

The first time Harry and Louis meet Cal Aurand, he’s helping out on the set of What Makes you Beautiful.

 

Harry and Louis are young and in love.

 

Cal is supposed to be setting up some type of lighting for the night scene; Harry and Louis are supposed to be taking a break from the sun in the trailer. None of them are good at listening to what they are supposed to be doing.

 

Cal catches them behind the large rocks; Harry is spinning Louis and threatening to toss him in the small pond of ocean water, gaping in the center of the circular rock walls that are blocking them away from the rest of the world. They look like a scene from a movie, and Cal’s fingers itch for his forgotten camera on the crew table just yards away.

 

Louis leans down and kisses Harry; their lips are firm and moist, Louis pink and sweet from strawberry chapstick juxtaposing Harry’s chapped ones. Harry stills their spinning bodies, his smile swallowed by the tan boy still raised above him; Harry’s hands are tight on Louis hips. Louis hands are tight on Harry’s shoulder.

 

“Oh,” Cal says and Harry drops Louis into the sand with a stutter. “Sorry.” He manages to tell the two lovers and both sets of foreign eyes plead with Cal to keep quiet. He does.

 

Later, as the crew is rushing around to set up for the sunset solo with Harry and Madison, Cal catches Louis looking stony off to the side. He walks over in time to see Louis silently pass over a tube of chapstick, strawberry like his own lips wear, and Cal squeezes Louis’ shoulder as Harry chomps away on his eighth piece of mint chewing gum and greets Madison with a smile that looks nothing like the boy who danced behind the rocks.

 

Louis says nothing as he shrugs from underneath Cal’s hand and saunters off to the rest of the boys. His back stays turned for all eight takes.

 

* * *

 

 

From then on it becomes somewhat of a ritual for them to visit Cal. Harry takes a strong liking to the older man, finding comfort in his maturity, and his wisdom for relationships; he has quite the softness for the tired couple.

 

When their puppy loves becomes too suspicious, and Eleanor begins to come around more Louis doesn’t have to beg Harry to, “Please. Stay.” But Harry promises it anyways with burning kisses and shaking fingers as they bother ignore their wet eyes as their hips meet.

 

“I love you,” Harry’s voice is always hoarse and Louis feels as if they are drowning in their emotions; he always anchors himself with fistfuls of curls.

 

“I love you,” He’ll breathe back and Harry always finishes at these words with a soft grunt, his face buried in Louis neck.

 

They still love each other, even though things have been tough.

 

* * *

 

 

Louis feels out of control, like he owns no part of his body, and he is bitter. His fringe is gone in place of a quiff that feels awkward on his scalp, and he sits in the dressing room of a television show as articles of clothing that aren’t his red pants and stripes are handed to him-Harry is quiet by his side. Always.

 

“I’m sorry,” Louis is sorry for the tweet, but he’s more sorry about the fact that all he can do is cry to Harry every night, clinging like a child in the dark of their bedroom. He just hasn’t been able to be strong recently, but Harry loves him anyways and he feels less like he’s dying slowly.

 

“It’s okay, love.” Harry whispers back but he doesn’t, he can’t, touch. He knows what the apology is really for. “Always in my heart, right?” He asks and tries to ignore the way Lou is watching them as she fixes Niall’s hair. They lock pinkies anyways and Louis smile isn’t as forced as they head over to where the studio audience is set up to interview them.

 

Harry leads them with confidence, and defiance, refusing to let go of Louis trembling fingers; he keeps their hands hidden by how close he presses before heading out. James from their management team is frowning and tries to say something but the eye roll Harry gives him makes him back off.

 

Harry is changing too but not like Louis.

 

* * *

 

 

When Nick Grimshaw steals Harry every night they are home Louis wants to hit.

 

He wants to punch, kick, scream, and keep Harry tight to him because if he doesn’t he’s so sure that Harry will drift away. He wants to brand ‘mine’ onto Harry’s pale neck with a searing bite and make Nick Grimshaw disappear.

 

Instead he calls his mum and goes home for a weekend. Harry gets photographed outside a bar with Nick’s hand low on his back. When Louis calls him, Harry doesn’t answer until much later in the night with a solitary text message that says, “I’ll see you Monday, xx” and Louis doesn’t text Harry for the rest of the weekend. Harry doesn't text Louis either.

 

Louis still loves Harry, but he isn’t sure that Harry knows. Or that Harry feels the same.

 

* * *

 

 

When they’re back in LA, Louis goes to Disneyland. Harry goes to Cal’s. That night, Louis presses Harry down onto the bed; his kisses apologizing for the day they had to spend apart. Louis rides Harry with determination and tries to catch the boys gaze. Harry stares hard at the curve of Louis neck, right where his collarbone meets. It’s the worst sex they’ve had since they were first learning how, and Louis tries not to cry when Harry doesn’t pull him close afterwards. When he’s sure Harry is asleep he reaches out his fingertips and traces down Harry’s pale chin. Harry’s eyes twitch as if he’s disturbed and he turns to face the opposite direction.

 

Louis is still in love. Harry is not.

 

* * *

 

 

Louis clings harder, afraid to see the bright eyed boy with infatuation for his elder mate disappear into someone else’s arms. The cups of tea with slightly burnt biscuits, feigned interest in indie films and movies, and the constant praise doesn’t seem to be enough, however.

 

They take a break, so Louis can focus on making his relationship with Eleanor more realistic, and Harry can focus on his new tattoo’s and trips to LA.

 

“Please,” Louis _never_ begs but, “Harry, please.” His small hand is clutched around Harry’s forearm and he’s pressing as close as he can but can’t manage to lift his gaze to meet Harry’s eyes.

 

But it doesn’t matter anyways because Harry has a flight to catch and his eyes haven’t met Louis’ since that day they met Cal on the beach.

 

* * *

 

 

Things get worse before they get better. Cal and Harry become stronger, and in the studio or on the car trips, all Harry can talk about is his visits and texts from Cal. All Louis can not talk about is the way his stomach hurts, and his eyes have become accustomed to a burning sensation he assumes must be related to the crying he does every night. Alone. In what was his and Harry’s bed.

 

When the instagram of Harry in nothing but a blanket with some stupid, American, football logo turns up, Louis completely loses it.

 

He’s been trying to please since the day he was born. He tried to please his biological father by learning to walk and talk months earlier than he was supposed to; but he left anyways. He tried to please his mum by caring for all his sisters when she didn’t have time to. He tried to please his sisters by being the best role model, his classmates by clowning around in school, and for a few years he tried to please his teachers but their opinions reflected in his negative marks on every report sent home.

 

He tried to please his step-father, even after he had walked out around the time of their X-factor tour, and then back to his mother by not letting onto the fact that Mark and he had lost contact. He tried to please management by doing whatever they wanted to keep the bands image safe. He tried to please his bandmates by taking on the leadership role, and hardly letting them see the cracks. He tried to please Eleanor with fancy clothing and accessories, and really nice vacations since he knew no other way.

 

But most of all, he tired to please Harry. He tried to show him he loved him through fake tweets sent by publicists, statements he never would have made and being the one to take on the beard knowing full well that Harry’s heart couldn’t handle it. He tried to make Harry happy with learning how to cook and cups of tea whenever Harry needed it. Louis always made sure to curl around Harry when he needed a dry shoulder, and by letting Harry have him at his most vulnerable; never closing his eyes when they had sex.

 

Louis is tired of trying to please, and he just loves Harry. It’s why he starts getting tattoos.

 

* * *

 

Eventually, he and Harry have to talk. They need to work around the awkwardness that had centered their band because of the break the two of them had taken. They sit together in a hotel room, and Harry’s hands are on Louis thighs. Louis swallows down a lump in throat, and buries his nose in Harry’s hair breathing in the musky scent he knows to well.

 

“Come home to me,” Louis gave up on not begging the second Harry had tattooed the same logo from the blanket onto his sculpted chest. They are molding closer together and Louis can feel the heat in his stomach curling through his body, he’s losing all his anger, his sadness, and it’s being replaced by the familiarity of Harry’s hands pulling Louis waist tighter against him.

 

“Okay,” Harry kisses him.

 

Louis is the happiest he’s felt in years.

 

* * *

 

 

This time, their love is deeper, it’s stronger, and nobody is able to pull them apart. When they visit LA and Cal takes them surfing, Louis drinks in the sight of what could only be described as his soulmate, strewn out in a wet suit with sand in his hair. He is beautiful.

 

They make a movie and Cal comes to help film it. Harry still follows Cal around like he hung the moon, but this time he pulls Louis in tow with him. The three are never far apart. Cal is great and Louis loves him, he’s quickly melded into their duo and making it a trio. Cal knows how to make Harry, and Louis, laugh—he also only films what they want him to see. He copies Harry’s stupid way of adding ‘stagram’ on the ends of his instagram photos. He takes Harry around to all the sites that they’ve both been dying to see together but know they won’t be able to for years. He feeds Harry foreign foods that none of them can pronounce but always makes sure to bring some back for Louis to try (so he doesn’t feel so left out). He plays football outside with Louis when he knows that Louis’ jealousy is getting the better of him, and even lets him score goals he knows he shouldn’t have had. At night when Harry wants to drink and Louis wants to sleep-Cal takes Harry out to keep him safe and always returns him to Louis in one piece the next morning, always saying he wanted Louis to sleep soundly. Cal is great, and Louis loves him, it’s sad to see him return to America.

 

When Louis gets sick midway through tour, Harry tries his best to mother him with blankets and movies. They get separated despite the protesting, because everyone is afraid of an epidemic spreading throughout the tour. They can’t afford to have people sitting out. Louis has to sleep alone and he doesn’t know that Harry calls Cal to come back and visit.

 

When Harry disappears one morning, Louis texts him three times figuring he’s still asleep up in his room. Harry never responds. He decides that he’ll be the one to go and get him up, and mentions this to Paul who tells Louis that they’ve flown in a surprise and Harry had gone to get him. Paul promises Louis that they are both upstairs, and it’s okay to go up. He races up the stairs, the elevator taking to long, excited about finally being able to spend time around the rest of his mates and to (hopefully) see Cal. He thought he had seen Harry texting the lad more often than usual.

 

Louis wishes he hadn’t come up. As he slides the keycard into the slot, he finds the two on Harry’s bed. Cal is kissing Harry, and Harry’s hands are gripping Cal’s waist. It’s funny that the first thing Louis thinks is how Cal had caught him and Harry in a similar a little over a year ago. Louis had felt the bruises on his hips from Harry’s fingertips for days but he had never felt closer to the boy. “Okay,” He finally manages to say because Oh. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised, or why his heart is beating madly. His entire body is trembling and he hopes they can’t tell as he white knuckle grips the metal handle of the door. Because, _oh_. Harry scrambles up, shrugging out of Cal’s embrace who is sitting stark pale on the bed, his eyes guilty as he stares down at his clasped hands. _Oh,_ of course. Louis thinks he might have said it out loud.

 

“Louis,” Harry’s voice is strangled as he trips over his shoes and rushes towards the older boy. “Lou…I.” He stops right as he’s in front of Louis and doesn’t touch him though Louis knows the way his hands are clenching he’s trying to resist from doing so.

 

Louis turns, and walks. He doesn’t stop until he’s gotten five calls from Paul and he can’t tell where he’s at. His feet hurt.

 

* * *

 

It’s been five days since he’s spoken to anyone. He fakes it on stage, and retreats to his bunk or his hotel bed in his downtime. His mum comes to visit, after he tearfully confesses to her on the second night. His breakdowns always happened when it was 4 am and she was trying to sleep. She listens to him and hmm’s at the appropriate times, he can hear her clicking for a flight ticket to get to him later that day.

 

They have a night off, and he’s curled into his mother with his head on her chest. She strokes through his hair and presses kisses on his forehead, her eyes are still damp. His have been dry for at least 42 hours. He left his phone on, just in case they need him for something, and it’s been buzzing since he caught Harry. He answers everyone who deserves to know how he’s feeling with, “I’ll be okay.” He ignores Harry’s calls with a click of a button.

 

He’s almost asleep, the movie and his mother calming fingers lulling him into a peaceful state. His phone buzzes, again, and he tenses knowing exactly who is calling.

 

“Why don’t you talk to him, baby?” His mother says but he just presses closer to her heart much like he had when he was younger. “I know he doesn’t deserve to hear your voice, angel, but you’ve got to get him to stop calling. He’s already come to the door at least ten times this evening alone, and he’s an absolute mess.” He grumbles, “I know, I know. He deserves to be, but you’re always the bigger person. You’ve been that way since you were little.” She takes his phone and squashes it in his hands. “Call him back, poppet, and tell him you’re through.” She stands up and goes to the bathroom and he hears her start the bath.

 

He calls Harry.

 

“I’m so sorry,” He answered sobbingly on the first ring, “Oh God, Lou…I can’t even explain myself. I’m so, _so¸_ sorry.” His voice is cracking pitifully and Louis knows, doesn’t even have to imagine, that his eyes will be a dark green lined with angry red. He knows that Harry won’t have showered, or styled his hair as a punishment for what he’s done. Harry won’t have eaten anything, unless forced fed to him, and that he’s replayed the same Ray Lamontagne song over and over again. He also knows that Harry’s written a hundred letters, text messages, and poems in regards to how he feels and then shredded or deleted every one of them. Louis hates that he knows.

 

He can hear someone soothing Harry’s sobs in the background, and the voice sounds like Zayn but it could be Cal and. That thought stings worse than cleaning out his wounds in primary school with rubbing alcohol. The burning fire on his heart doesn’t go away, and it feels so heavy it sinks all the way down until it’s a rock in Louis stomach. He isn’t sure if he needs to throw up or cry. Maybe both.

 

“Who are you with?” He asks Harry. (“Hush darling, please don’t cry. You’re too beautiful to do that.” He thinks and is bitter but glad he doesn’t say it).

 

“Zayn,” Harry says confused, “I…he can leave if you want to come over. Or I can come to you. Anything you need. I’ll do anything.” Harry is pleading and Louis lets out the relief he didn’t know he was hiding at the idea of Cal wrapping his arms around Harry’s thin middle.

 

“Is it because of that tweet I sent back in September? Or because of me having to walk around with Eleanor? She hasn’t been around in months but I know sometimes…” He trails off, “I’ve been trying to understand but. I just can’t.” Louis is confused too.

 

“No,” Harry’s voice is firm, “Never. I know you didn’t say that tweet, and she hasn’t been a problem. Not a real problem, at least, in ages. Louis, I love you.” Louis buries his head underneath his pillow. “I love you so much, and it fucking scares me. Before I met you I’d hardly even _kissed_ someone I cared about and then you showed up with your fucking smile, and your cheeky attitude and you sucked me in. It’s like each day I see you, I fall in love with you just a little bit more and that is so scary because I just didn’t think it was possible. I even love the way your feet smell, and you don’t ever clean up, or put the cap back on the toothpaste. I’d give up everyday I had on stage if it meant I could put the cap back on the toothpaste for you.”

 

“Why are you telling me this?” Louis questions, this hurts more than watching Harry kiss someone else.

 

“Because I made a mistake. I’ve been telling Cal about this, about you, and how scared I am. How you’re really my first everything and how was I supposed to know if I was right? That you were my forever, how was I supposed to know that for sure if I only ever knew you?” Harry’s voice is like fire on Louis thoughts.

 

“You just know.” Louis tells him, “I just know it about you.” He’s sincere since he learned that hiding his feelings causes people to walk away.

 

“I should have. It’s just…he offered to try it, once, when we were really drunk. Just a quick kiss and he said if you were really the one that I would know. I said no, at first, because it was my instinct but then I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It’s part of the reason I brought him out here.” Harry’s admission is soft.

 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Louis feels so broken; he thought he could trust Harry with everything and that Harry felt the same about him.

 

“I should have. You’re right, I totally should have. I just didn’t know how and I’m sorry. I’ll never stop being sorry.”

 

“Was it worth it?” Louis finally says after a long break from talking filled with the sounds of their crying.

 

“No,” Harry is adamant, “No because I already knew before he did it. I knew it the second we walked into the room. I knew it when I sat on the bed, and wished I was cuddling behind you. I knew when he put his hand on my waist and it was to big, and when he leaned forward I knew because-“

 

“Please stop,” Louis whimpers, “Please.”

 

“He wasn’t you. I just knew.” Harry alters his ending. There’s a knock on the door, and Louis gets up. Harry is staring at him with his phone pressed to his ear, and he slides it down slowly and hangs it up. When Louis just stands there Harry takes away his phone and pockets it in his own jeans. “I love you,” Harry’s eyes are earnest.

 

“I love you too,” Louis tells him but he doesn’t respond when Harry pulls him close.

 

“Hug me?” Harry asks gently, but Louis shakes his head.

 

“Not yet.” Louis admits yet he let’s Harry come in anyways. “I’m not ready yet.”

 

Harry and Louis are older and maybe not quite as in love as they once thought. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yay you read it! Leave a comment with what you thought, I love all love/hate/constructive criticism/kudos you want to give. YAY FOR FANFIC FRIENDS! <3 <3 <3 <3 xoxoxoxo!


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